


October 3rd, 2016

by IMAgentMI



Series: October Microfic-a-Day Project [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8201777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI
Summary: York has a tough day.  This is just one of many, since he lost his eye.





	

York hit the mattress so hard he bounced.  He enjoyed the satisfying sound of the springs creaking for a moment before turning onto his back.  He tucked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

It’d been a tough day.  Seemed to be a lot more tough days lately.  Of course there would be -- he’d be delusional to expect otherwise.  He’d adjusted fairly well to life with only one fully functioning eye, but… well, you had tough days, that’s the long and short of it.

York sighed, turned his head to the side.  He found himself staring at his bedside table. After a moment, he reached over.

His fingers closed around a baseball, one of the few personal items that he had brought from home.  This one from his high school days, the ball his coach had saved for him after the game where he’d come so close to pitching a no-hitter.  He held it in his hands, running his calloused fingers over the familiar stitching.  He changed his grip a bit - fastball. He changed it again - slider. York rolled once more onto his back, changing his grip over and over -- slider, sinker, curveball, fastball -- then stuck with one position that felt best and gently tossed the ball straight up into the air, watching it spin.  

He realized it was a stupid thing to do. He still kept going until the fifth throw though, when his eyes and compromised depth-perception finally betrayed him and the ball came down straight onto his nose. It hurt like hell, but he could tell that nothing was broken. His eyes watered to the point where he couldn’t see, but he still managed to stand and walk carefully across the room. York rested his forearms on the edge of his tiny sink, pressing a wet cloth to his face and leaning forward so tears and a couple drops of blood landed on wet metal. 

After a few moments, his eyes stopped watering.  He checked for more blood before carefully drying his face.  He walked back to the bed, stooped to pick up the baseball where it had landed on the floor. He kept hold of it, laid back down in bed.  He turned onto his side, staring at it in his hand. When he finally closed his eyes to sleep it was the last thing he saw. 

Yeah. Tough day.


End file.
